Happy New Year, Love
by Specter-Paulsen
Summary: A New Year's Eve party at the firm has tensions rising and Harvey and Donna confronting things that were buried long ago.


**Happy New Year, Darvey fans! This is a pre-canon fic, set within season 8. **

It's New Years Eve and Harvey couldn't be less optimistic if he tried.

Louis, in his infinite wisdom, has decided that they should have a New Year's Eve Party at the firm. As Managing Partner, he gets to decide, and Donna as the _real _managing partner, had agreed with him.

Harvey wearily rubs a hand over his face as the elevator ascends toward the 50th floor. The metal box is filled with party-goers, clients and colleagues alike, chatting happily to one another, buzzing with anticipation of the lavish party they're about to attend.

Of course Donna had planned it all, with input from Louis, so it was bound to be classy and elegant, with just a touch of extravagance.

The elevator doors open and the sounds of piano keys tinkling filter in. The party-goers spill out into the reception area, picking up flutes of champagne from the trays held aloft by an army of servers. Harvey follows begrudgingly, picking up a flute and downing it in two gulps before setting it down and picking up another to sip. He treads almost by instinct down the hall toward his office, needing scotch in his stomach before facing the party.

"Harvey!" He turns at the sound of Louis' voice, grimacing as he tries to fake a smile.

"Louis, Sheila," he greets, the managing partner and his heavily pregnant fiancée holding hands and both grinning joyfully.

"Where are you going? The party is in the library."

"I was going to get scotch." He shoves his hands in his pockets, rocking back on his heels.

"We have scotch. The good stuff, too. Donna made sure of it."

"Oh… great." He grimaces again, but follows them to the library nonetheless.

The room has been completely transformed and is almost unrecognisable. He can see Donna's touch all over the place, in the elegant lamps positioned strategically around the edges of the room, the twinkling lights festooning the ceiling, the long bar set up in front of the rear bookcase, and the heavy drapes adorning the walls. It's appropriately cosy and wintery as well as effortlessly classy and everyone is gazing appreciatively at the decor.

He makes a beeline for the bar, ordering a Macallan and setting aside his still-full champagne flute. He turns and props himself against the bar, surveying the room in search of _her. _He's surprised when he doesn't immediately spot her, unaccustomed to not knowing where she is within the four walls of the firm.

"Looking for someone?" Samantha sidles up next to him and he fights the impulse to roll his eyes, sipping from his glass instead.

"Samantha," he greets. "Enjoying the party?"

"I am. There's shrimp cocktail over by the staircase."

"Pass. I haven't eaten shrimp in years." He hides his smile in his glass as he swigs from it again, recalling the shrimp in Clara Paulsen's hair. It had put him off crustaceans for life.

It's then that he spots Donna, entering the room on the arm of a tall dark stranger. His eyes narrow as he watches them, downing the remainder of his scotch and setting it blindly down on the bar behind him.

"His name is Thomas Kessler. He's a client of Louis'," Samantha tells him, seeing where his gaze has landed.

"I know. I've met him," he says defensively.

"Before or after he started dating Donna?"

"Let me guess, _you _set them up."

"I didn't set them up," she replied with a roll of her eyes, "Donna offered to help Louis with a case and they met and hit it off." She shrugs. "I'm not out to sabotage the relationship you two _don't have,_ Harvey."

"Samantha," he practically growls, "how long ago was that?"

"Last week? Maybe the week before? I don't remember."

"And they're seeing each other?" He could feel a headache brewing behind his eyes, watching Donna laugh with this man. _Kessler. _He runs the name over in his head, trying to remember anything he knows about the guy.

"I don't know. But it sure looks like it, don't you think?" Samantha's taunting him and he knows it, but doesn't have it in him to care as he sees Donna lay her hand on Kessler's arm. He knows that move. She's done it to him a million times. She's flirting. The thought makes his blood boil and he spends a moment examining that.

It's a technique he's been working on with Lipschitz; examining his thoughts and feelings before reacting. It's supposed to be a way to manage his anger, but it's served many purposes over the past two months.

He's now more aware than ever of his feelings for Donna. He knows he's in love with her. Knows he needs her. But he's afraid. He's afraid he needs her too much, that they're codependent. He doesn't want to tell her how he feels until he's comfortable that they can be together without codependency. It's 13 years worth of bad habits that need to be broken and he's determined to get back on track before he makes his move. Or at least, he was. Now, seeing her flirting with another man, hearing that she'd hit it off him with upon first meeting, he's not so sure he's making the right choices.

Without a second thought he strides away from the bar, heading straight for Donna and her new beau. To his consternation, he's intercepted by Louis for the second time that evening, except that somehow this time it doesn't feel like a coincidence.

"Harvey, can I introduce you to—"

"Louis, I need to—"

"Gentleman." Gretchen appears beside them. "This is a great party. Red did a hell of a job."

"Yes, she did," Harvey agrees, his eyes flicking toward the redhead in question, only to find that she was no longer where he'd last seen her.

"Yes, I did." She's suddenly there, in his vicinity, and he feels his heartbeat increase.

"Donna!" Louis is beaming. "It's everything we wanted."

"I'm glad, Louis," she smiles warmly, accepting the hug her friend is offering. When they part, she turns her attention to Harvey and gifts him with the smile she seems to reserve especially for him. "And you? Are you enjoying yourself?"

"Not as well as some," he replies, trying not to look around at where Kessler had disappeared to. The look she gives him in response to his comment is simultaneously chastising and confused.

"Can I speak to you privately?" she asks and it makes his heart leap, so all he can do is nod. She gives an apologetic smile to Louis and Gretchen and then stalks away, Harvey following in her wake.

She leads him to her office, rounding her desk to stare at him from behind it. "What's going on, Harvey?"

"I don't know what you're talking about." He sits, folding one leg over the other, attempting to be nonchalant.

"You've been weird for weeks. I thought maybe it was the holidays, but I don't think it is." She pauses, studying him, and cocks her head to one side. "I feel like I don't know you anymore."

He's taken aback, unsure what to say or do in response. She's always known him, better than he knows himself, even. She seems to sense that she's stumped him, because she continues.

"I know you've been seeing Lipschitz. Louis told me." She's apologetic, and she doesn't need to be, but he can't form the words to tell her. "What's wrong, Harvey?" Now she's worried and it shocks him back to his senses.

"Are you dating that Kessler guy?" he asks and her eyebrows shoot up.

"Excuse me?"

"I saw you with him, and Samantha said—"

"_Samantha_ said? You're talking to Samantha about me?" She cuts him off, incredulous and definitely a little outraged.

"No! I… we were at the bar and I saw you with him and she—"

"If you want to know something about me, Harvey, ask _me."_

"I _am _asking you! I'm asking you now!" he exclaims and she takes a second before nodding, gesturing for him to continue. "Samantha said you met him a few weeks ago on a case and you… hit it off."

"He's a nice guy." She shrugs and his stomach knots. He wishes he had a glass of scotch right now. She stands and he follows her with his gaze, watching as she reads his mind and pours them each a drink. She hands him the bigger one as usual and they share a small smirk.

"So you are dating him?" he asks, getting back to the point. She sighs, lowering herself into her chair again and sipping from her glass.

"We've been out twice. I wouldn't say we're dating."

"Did you…" he trails off, unable to finish that particular question. Partly because she won't be too pleased with him if he asks, but mostly because he doesn't want to know the answer.

"Yes," she answers anyway, knowing what he's asking even without him actually asking it. He closes his eyes against the wave of emotion washing over him. He's angry, but he's also hurt, feeling like she's betrayed him. He knows he has no right to feel that way, but it's instinctive.

"Okay." He nods, swallowing hard, and could swear her eyes flick to his throat, watching his Adam's apple move.

"What?" Her voice is softer, her eyes fixed on him, studying his face. "I don't owe you anything, Harvey."

"I know." She's right and it makes his stomach churn again. She doesn't owe him anything. They're not a couple. Lately they're barely even friends. "But it bothers me."

She laughs humorlessly. "But it doesn't mean anything, right?"

"No. I mean — yes." He shakes his head, attempting to clear his thoughts. This wasn't how he'd expected it to go. "It does mean something."

She's surprised, that much is clear. Her eyebrows high, her lips parted, she's staring at him and saying nothing. He shifts in his chair, waiting for her to speak, or react, but she's just staring, her eyes faraway. He's not used to this kind of quiet from her. "Are you—"

"It means something?" She finds her voice, but it's hollow, and it hits somewhere in his solar plexus. It's not the reaction he was hoping for.

"Yes," he replies lowly, almost afraid to look away from her penetrating gaze. Something big is happening, and he doesn't know which way it's going to go, but he can't help wondering if he may never see her stare at him like this again. He hears Dr Lipschitz's voice in his head; _focus on the positive, Harvey. Allow optimism in your life. _

"Donna, the caterers…" Louis stops in the doorway, breaking off mid-sentence.

"What, Louis?" Harvey snaps, refusing to look away from Donna's face.

"The caterers are having some sort of problem with the trays, or the oven, or… something. Can you talk to them please, Donna?"

"We're a little busy, Louis."

"It's okay, Harvey," Donna says gently. He opens his mouth to object and then closes it again at the look on her face. "We'll talk later." She stands swiftly and follows Louis, setting a hand briefly on Harvey's shoulder as she goes.

.

He stays in his seat for a while after she leaves, his shoulder feeling warm from her touch. He curses Louis and the caterers for the interruption as he gets up to refill his glass, settling onto the couch with it. They were finally getting somewhere. It might not have been where he wanted the conversation to go, but finally, it was going _somewhere._

He's well into his third glass when Samantha appears at the end of the hall. He watches as she walks toward Donna's office, striding in and taking a seat across from him.

"What do you want, Samantha?" He asks irritably.

"I came to see if you're okay."

"I'm fine." He gulps down another mouthful of scotch.

"You're drinking alone, and not even in your own office."

"I'm fine, Samantha, okay?"

"If you say so. But if you want to make a move on her, then do it soon. She's not going to wait forever." As she walks away, he watches her go, wide eyed at her audacity.

"You don't know shit about us," he grumbles under his breath, pouring another glass.

Samantha hears, whirling around to look at him again, "I know more than you think. You two are pretty easy to read if you're looking for the signs." She shrugs, and leaves him alone.

.

He's more than a little drunk by the time Donna returns.

"You going to replace that?" she asks, gesturing at the decanter. He shrugs, pushing it toward her so she can pour her own. After pouring, she places it out of his reach. "I think you've had enough," she says when he raises his eyebrows in question.

He shrugs in response. She's probably right. She usually is.

"You remember when we first started drinking scotch?" Her tone is conversational and it throws him a little.

"I remember the first time we drank scotch _together_, if that's what you mean."

"You stole Cameron Dennis' scotch and then flirted with me over a glass," she chuckles lightly and sips from her glass and he casts his mind back to that night, the image of her sipping from her glass in the DA's office not dissimilar to her sitting in her office here as COO. She's come a long way. He's proud.

"I think there was equal flirting going on, thank you very much." He winks and she chuckles again. It's a musical sound and he realises how little he's heard it lately.

"There probably was. But do you remember what I told you then?"

"Which part? The part where you told me I'd never get to sleep with you?"

"No! _Clearly_ I was wrong about that part." She smirks and he can't help but smirk back in response. "No, I mean the part where if anyone was falling for anyone, it would be you for me."

"I remember." His words are quiet, when he realises where she's going with this. She's about to tell him that she was right, that he'd fallen for her but she hadn't fallen for him. He looks at the floor, shuffling his feet, feeling like he's looking at someone else's shoes. The first feelings of a panic attack are beginning to lick through his veins like fire and he shifts uncomfortably, loosening his tie.

"Harvey," she says and he looks up at her. Her eyes are shining and he doesn't know why, feeling like he's adrift at sea, grasping for answers and missing every time. "Harvey?" She's moving to him, loosening his tie further and unbuttoning the first two buttons of his shirt. "Are you okay?"

"I'm fine," he gasps, taking the bottle of water she's passing him and swigging from it.

"Breathe," she's rubbing his back, making soothing circles, and his hand is warm through his shirt. It makes his heart beat faster and he feels like a teenager with a crush.

"I'm okay," he says when he can breathe again. She leans back, but her hand stays on his back, the warmth of it seeping into his body.

"You just had a panic attack." It's not a question. He nods, hot shame burning in his cheeks. He just can't stop feeling like a kid tonight. "Why?"

"You know why." He looks sideways at her and they're right back there again, at the same impasse they'd reached once before. He's determined not to get it wrong this time, so he elaborates. "Because you're about to tell me something that I'm afraid to hear."

"You don't know what I'm about to tell you."

"My instincts are pretty good, Donna."

"Not when it comes to us, Harvey. When it comes to us, you're completely clueless. You always have been."

He cocks his head, momentarily thrown. "What are you talking about?"

"I'm trying to tell you I was wrong."

"About?" He's lost track of the conversation. She's sitting too close, her hand on his back, her scent filling his nostrils. Between the distraction she's providing and the anxiety she's causing, he's feeling lost and confused. It's not something he's accustomed to feeling, but he's aware now that the only times he has felt it, it's always been in conjunction with her.

"I was wrong that it would be you falling for me."

"You weren't wrong." The conversation is venturing into old territory and he's determined not to fuck it up this time. He won't run away, and he won't let her run either. Whatever happens, they're going to have this long-overdue conversation. "I did… fall."

"So did I."

He almost drops his glass. His hand trembles as he sets it on the table, turning his body to face her. "You what?"

"I fell. A _long _time ago." She reaches for him, laying her hand over his. "Harvey, we've been here before and it's always ended badly. I don't want it to end like that this time. So I have to ask… do you love me?"

His heart leaps and he feels it all the way to his toes, his eyes widening as he sees the truth in her gaze. He knows then that she'd lied about not feeling anything when she kissed him, and that she'd done it for him. And all he can think is that he wants to feel it again; that feeling that had flooded his body that night; the wanting, the love, the _need _for her. He closes the gap between them and takes her lips, sandwiching her bottom lip between both of his. The noise she makes in the back of her throat spurs him on, encouraging him to deepen the kiss, licking first her lip and then her tongue as she opens her mouth to him.

When they part, breathing heavily, she asks, "so that's a yes, right?"

"Yes," he chuckles, kissing her quickly, lightly, "yes. I love you."

"And I love you," she replies, and she's beaming as she says it. Her whole face is lit up and he's never seen her more beautiful. She reaches out, her hand on his face, thumb stroking his cheekbone. "I don't think I've ever told you how handsome you are."

"I think there's a lot of things we've neglected to tell each other."

"You're not going to tell me how beautiful I am?" She's fake pouting now and he laughs, feeling lighter than he ever has.

"I think that's a given. I imagine every man in the building has told you."

Her smile fades a little. "I let Thomas know that I won't be going out with him again."

"Good." He plays with a lock of her hair. "Do you want to go out with me instead?"

"I thought you'd never ask," she teases as she leans in to kiss him again.

.

They ditch the party, opting instead to go to his apartment for a private celebration.

They stumble through his front door in a haze of giggles and kisses, high on the events of the evening, unable to stop touching one another for even a minute.

"So you really love me?" he asks again and she laughs, thinking playfully for a moment.

"Yeah, I guess so." They've been playing this game in the car the whole way home, and more than once Harvey had caught Ray hiding a smile.

"Good. Because I kind of love you too."

"Kind of?"

"Fine," he sighs exaggeratedly. "A lot."

"Good."

"Good."

They kiss deeply, tongues tangling and hands roaming. He runs a hand up her back, reaching the concealed zipper at the top of her dress, pulling it down slowly. His palm slides inside the open back of her dress, fingers stroking at her soft skin. Her hands are busy working at the buttons of his shirt, having already removed and discarded his tie. When his shirt is unbuttoned all the way, she moves to his cuffs, removing his cuff links and shoving them into his jacket pocket before pushing the shirt and jacket off his shoulders and down his arms in one swift movement. When she rakes her nails down his chest and over his nipples, he groans, pulling her hips toward his and grinding hard into her centre.

From there it's barely a minute before they're both naked, falling onto his bed in a passionate embrace. He kisses his way down her neck and over her chest, sucking one and then the other nipple into his mouth before continuing his path down her stomach, over her hip and between her thighs. When he places an open mouthed kiss over her clit, she sucks in a breath and fists a handful of his hair.

"Yes," she breathes and he starts working at her, licking, sucking, kissing and touching, working her toward a climax she can feel rushing at her like a freight train. "_Fuck_, Harvey." She digs her head back into the pillow, raising his hips into his face, needing more of him. He pulls away, kissing her hip bone and then back up her body to meet her lips. She tastes herself in his mouth and an involuntary thrust of her hips brings them close to connecting.

"Condom," he gasps and she stills.

"No." She winds her fingers around his arms, her hands gripping his biceps as he holds himself above her. "I don't want a condom. I want to feel you. I'm clean and I'm protected. So if you're clean too, please, just… _please."_

"Okay." He meets her eyes and she's begging him with her gaze, and he knows in that moment that he'll never deny her anything. He sheathes himself inside her and the sound that escapes her is the most erotic thing he's ever heard. As he thrusts inside her, fireworks begin to erupt over the city, lighting up his bedroom through the uncovered windows. The moment is so cliche that they both burst out laughing and he collapses on top of her, his face buried in her hair.

As their laughter dies off, he moves his head to kiss her, still buried to the hilt inside her wetness, the heat surrounding him driving him crazy.

"I need to move. I can't—"

"Do it," she says and he nods, pulling out and then slamming home, his pelvis hitting hard against hers, drawing a deep moan from her. He pounds into her over and over, drilling her into the mattress, pushing her closer to the edge with every thrust. "I'm close," she gasps, "so close."

"Me too," he replies in a grunt. One of her hands leaves his body, snaking between them to flick at her clit and she knows it'll only be seconds before she gets there.

She's right. Half a minute later she's tumbling off the edge with a cry, her body jerking under his as he kisses her mouth. He stills for a moment to let her ride it out, before starting up his rhythm again. A handful of thrusts and he's coming inside her, his forehead resting on hers, their breath mingling in the space between their mouths as they pant with the exertion of their second first time.

He collapses onto her, and she holds him, kissing his face, his neck, his lips.

"I love you," he pants and she captures his lips again lovingly.

"I love you too," she replies when they part, settling into a more comfortable position, his arm draped across her body as she turns into him, kissing his sweaty shoulder. "Happy new year, Harvey."

"Happy new year, Donna."

.

Back at the party, Louis has just finished throughly kissing his fiancee, when Samantha approaches.

"So?" he asks, "did it work?"

"They left together forty minutes ago, and they looked pretty cosy if you ask me."

"The Kessler move was brilliant, if not a little risky."

"I knew what I was doing, Louis. Sometimes it just takes a woman's touch."

"Don't I know it," Louis replies, winding his arm around Sheila. "Congratulations on a successful mission, Sam."

"It's Samantha."

* * *

**The. End. **

**I hope you enjoyed! Sending Happy New Year wishes out to all of you.**

**E xx**


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